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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528118">waking</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/limerental/pseuds/limerental'>limerental</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Witcher Ficletvember 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cuddling, F/M, One Night Stands, Referenced Drunk Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 06:20:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>495</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528118</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/limerental/pseuds/limerental</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A cock crows just past the sill of the inn’s window, and Jaskier grumbles and groans against inevitable wakefulness, fingers flexing in the worn blankets bunched up under his chin. He returns to consciousness in a lazy drift, wrinkling his toes and wriggling against the thin mattress and stretching out the tells of a pleasant night in the strained tension of his thighs. </p><p>Ficletvember Day 5 - prompt: sleeping/waking together</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Witcher Ficletvember 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>waking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A cock crows just past the sill of the inn’s window, and Jaskier grumbles and groans against inevitable wakefulness, fingers flexing in the worn blankets bunched up under his chin. He returns to consciousness in a lazy drift, wrinkling his toes and wriggling against the thin mattress and stretching out the tells of a pleasant night in the strained tension of his thighs.</p><p>The skin of last night’s bedpartner still warms his back, an arm slung across his midsection, hand pressed into the curls of hair along his lower belly. He’s expected Ella to be gone by now, snuck back into her own bed on the other side of the inn with her father none-the-wiser, though perhaps she’s a deep sleeper or simply worn out by their vigorous night of love-making. Granted, he hardly remembers a blink past the third round of drinks served by the comely maid that he flirted with wholeheartedly, but he’s certain their night must have been suitably memorable, judging by the lasting ache of his muscles.</p><p>No matter, perhaps there’s time for a morning round with a bit more clarity. Feeling her stir behind him, Jaskier rolls to greet her, a stream of light through the little window humming with dust motes and illuminating–</p><p>Not Ella, no.</p><p>Not the innkeeper’s daughter, youthful and peachy and round, but instead, a dark-haired woman with bronzed complexion, her legs tucked up behind his own and violet eyes watching.</p><p>Yennefer of Vengerberg.</p><p>Jaskier sits bolt upright in bed, forgetting the pitch of the roof and knocks his forehead against the slope of the ceiling. He yelps and slumps back to meet the pillows, possibly dying. Below the window, the cock crows loudly.</p><p>Yennefer is still there when he opens his eyes again, tipped up on an elbow and frowning at him in practiced disinterest.</p><p>“Morning,” he squeaks. “You… um. Come here often?”</p><p>“I knew I should have sobered you up last night,” says Yennefer, rolling her eyes. He flinches as she lifts her hand toward him, and for a moment, he swears he sees a touch of hurt pull down the corners of her mouth before his fingers graze his temple and the events of the night before smooth into his brain past the haze of drunkenness.</p><p>He sees her in the moonlight, bowed above him, her breasts rising and falling in perfect rhythm of his upward thrusts. Sees their fingers entangle, foreheads press close. Their mad fumble through the hallway, kissing and necking like young things. And in the tavern, her words spoken earnestly as she touches his hand I like you, Jaskier. I know you now and like you. His echoed confession of I’ve always liked you, Yennefer. Since the beginning. Her laugh at the blatant lie.</p><p>“Oh,” he breathes and shifts to look at her, her loose tumble of bedhead, her parted lips. “Though I think I still may be hazy on some bits. Care to remind me?”</p><p>And she does.</p>
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